


The Owner of A Heart

by theglamourfades



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute Kids, F/M, Family Fluff, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 22:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15228954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglamourfades/pseuds/theglamourfades
Summary: After a school lesson about the holiday, six year old William Bates is ready to give his first Valentine's card - and his parents have to contend with their little boy growing up fast. Modern Anna x Bates AU.





	The Owner of A Heart

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A little flufftastic modern AU idea that was written for Valentine's Day.

There were few moments in his life that John enjoyed more than this. The fifteen minutes or so passed just the same most days, and perhaps it had a little to do with the familiar regularity – he had always had a preference for a steady, reliable routine – but the joy he encountered was much more down to the remarkable nature of the situation he found himself in, entirely normal and something he never would have imagined as little as a few years ago. Each afternoon it was impossible to wipe the proud smile from his face, and even though he was well aware he must have looked like an utter fool he couldn't have cared less. It was funny to him, and then again made complete sense, that he was a far less self-conscious version of himself than he had been just over six years previous.

He chatted with the other mums as they waited in the crisp sunshine – they were all mums, but he didn't feel like an anomaly. In fact he was rather pleased to be the lone father amongst them. Anna knew most of the women, if only just to say 'hello' and 'how are you?' to; since she had returned to work part-time he had the honour of picking up their son from school four out of five days of the week and so had gotten to know them all fairly well. There had been a bit of awkwardness at first – it seemed like they had depended on routine just as much as he had. Some of them tried too hard pretending they hadn't noticed the cane at his right side, and one or two had mistaken him for one of the teachers on playground duty, trying to get him to divulge details on how their sons and daughters were getting on whilst he remained completely baffled - though Anna was amused to no end when he had told her about it. But they had soon laughed it off outside the gates – there wasn't a lot of room to run and hide - and truth be told he felt more at ease with this group of women than he had for the best part of his life, trying to fit in with 'the lads'.

The bell sounded shrill, but he didn't mind that it hurt his ears. The momentary pain was worth it for the happy reunion that was to follow. He watched carefully for William to emerge, smiling as he noticed him letting the other children go out before him, picking up a little girl's hat when she dropped it and sharing some final bits of chatter with his closest friends – most of whom did in fact seem to be female.

John was so caught up in observing how grown-up his son appeared, his heart swelling with pride within his chest and his emotions simultaneously conflicted, that it had taken him a few seconds to shake himself out of his daydreaming. As soon as William had bounded across the small playground to him, hugging at his legs, he was right back in the present – a place that he would do his damndest to preserve for as long as it was possible.

"Daddy!" William called happily. His uniform was almost as pristine as Anna had pressed it that morning, his maroon jumper hanging slightly askew from his shoulders the only sign of the effects of the day. His glasses were perched a little too far forward on his button nose, and his hand clutched tightly onto his superhero-patterned lunch-box.

"Hello, scamp," John replied, his hand resting instinctively on his boy's shoulders. "Been another long day?"

William nodded soberly, and the seriousness that lingered in his eyes for a few seconds made John want to chuckle. His fair hair and blue eyes were all Anna, down to the smallest degree, but there were many parts of his demeanour – some more briefly shown than others – that marked him firmly as his father's son.

John crouched on his knees, ignoring the faint way his right one complained for him doing so. "Well, I should hope you're not too tired for a great...big..." – he paused for effect, tracing the burgeoning smile on his son's face and feeling like a king for being the one to make it appear – "...BEAR HUG!"

He did his best friendly bear growl, nudging his nose against William's cheeks as he engulfed his boy in an embrace, right there on the sidelines of the playground. William convulsed with giggles, patting his father's back and shrieking joyfully while the hug stretched on, the other mothers smiling as they walked past the scene hand-in-hand with their little ones, going back for another evening.

Having satisfied themselves that the school day was over and home life was beginning once again, John relinquished his tight hold on his son, taking his small hand into his own larger one. William retrieved the cane which had been discarded to the ground, passing it back to his father with a smile on his rosy-cheeked face. One day he would learn that Daddy wasn't in fact a courageous crusader by night, shedding his everyday persona in order to keep the town safe from baddies and monsters. Anna's bedtime stories were pretty outlandish compared with his own and sometimes he worried, not that they were too much but that they made the ones he told seem terribly boring. But William never complained, loving all of the tales equally. They set off on their short walk home, William clutching onto John's hand with the best of his abilities while his other hand held his Batman backpack firmly in place.

"So, what was it today?" John asked as they strolled, William skipping to keep in step with his strides even when he purposefully made them shorter. "More English and History than boring Maths, I hope."

"We did  _some_  maths, and stories. And craft," William announced, craning his head up to look at John. Ah, so that explained the smattering of glitter glue on his hands and the small smears that had made their way to both of his cheeks. "It's Valentine's Day next week, Daddy."

Valentine's Day, so soon? It felt like it had only been a few days since New Year and William's birthday the day before. Saying that, time moved in a different manner when you had kids. He smiled down at his boy, thankful for his innocent reminder. A week should give him time to sort a few things for Anna, even if it wouldn't be enough to arrange a little trip away. Oh well, he never needed an excuse to treat her and it was still too cold to make the most of anything right now.

"Miss Adams told us all about it," William went on enthusiastically, as he often did whenever he discovered something new. "She said we could all make cards, and that we could give them out for Valentine's Day." He gave a triumphant smile, his little face glowing. "I already know who I'm giving mine to."

Something in John's chest stuttered, a discomfiting feeling washing over him on the brilliantly sunny afternoon. He could never say anything to disappoint his boy – he couldn't be completely certain, but he was as definite as he could be that crushing his still-forming spirit would be the worst thing he could ever do – but the thought of him handing over a card, and his heart that was as yet far too young to understand, did not sit well. He had no doubt that the intentions had been pure and well-meaning; the school was a very good and inclusive one which held the values of kindness and empathy high. Of course William had come home with Christmas and Easter cards complete with cotton-wool bearded Father Christmases and fluffy-tailed bunnies, and he and Anna had regarded them as if they were priceless works of art. But making Valentine's Day cards at school, never mind teaching the children about that particular holiday? It was something he had never heard of, and hadn't expected that he ever would.

"Don't go rushing into it, scamp," he stumbled slightly on his words, not wishing to discourage William's joy but not being quite sure what to say. "You have to think carefully about this sort of thing. You don't want to hurt anybody's feelings."

William straightened himself on his heels, suddenly looking as though he had grown inches taller in a matter of seconds.

"It's okay, Daddy. I know that it's important."

A greater pang set itself against John's heart. They had surrounded him with so much love – the child they had longed for and for a little while weren't sure they would ever have – that he had grown up cherishing and reflecting the emotion with hardly any effort. His school reports hadn't been many as yet owing to the fact that he hadn't been there all that long but each one had been glowing with remarks of what a thoughtful, considerate child William Bates was.

"Um, you can say no, but would you mind if I saw it first?" John ventured, feeling like it was a fair and distanced way that he could have some control over the situation. "When we get home, you can show me before dinner."

"I haven't finished it yet. Miss Adams said she would keep it safe for me," William replied. "But it won't take long. I'll show you tomorrow, okay Daddy?"

John smiled, rather hoping he wouldn't have had to let the worry fester but knowing that there wasn't much choice. He gave his son's hand a little squeeze and told himself that it couldn't possibly be as bad as he was imagining it to be.

"Alright, scamp. I'm going to look forward to it."

William resumed his skipping, and John did his best to put his brooding to the back of his mind. Tomorrow was Friday, which was unfortunate. If it had been another day he might have the idea to have a quick word with the teacher once he had collected William in the afternoon. Perhaps he could persuade Anna to spend her free day going on with sewing; he was sure he'd heard her mention that Mary would quite like the pieces ready to sell in the boutique by mid-March, in time for the new season.

"What's for dinner, daddy?" William asked as he hopped over the cracks in the pavements, perfectly oblivious.

John sucked in a breath, telling himself to forget about it for now.

"A little bird tells me it might be spaghetti and smiley faces."

"Yay!" William shouted. "My most favourite favourite!"

With all of the joy his boy displayed, John felt himself sigh inwardly. If only things could stay so simple for as long as he wished, but then that still wouldn't have been long enough.

"Mine too," he replied, giving his son a smile and determining that everything would be as normal as he had thought it would remain not half an hour ago.

* * *

"I mean, it's irresponsible. Teaching six year olds about Valentine's Day and everything comes with it? It's just...I don't have the words to begin to describe it."

John huffed, placing his book – of which he hadn't read a paragraph, never mind a page since getting into bed – down onto the covers again. His frames were slipping down for the countless time and he gave them a firm push back onto the bridge of his nose, the gesture acting to punctuate his utter disbelief.

At his side, Anna tried hard to disguise her amusement.

"Well, they are six, so it's not going to be the ins and outs." She rolled her eyes briefly at her turn of phrase, not giving him the chance to interject. "I'm sure it's mainly about the importance of friendship, and loving their little sisters and brothers."

"William doesn't need to be taught about that. He loves the bones of Claire."

Anna's face took on the misty-eyed expression that was only discernible to mothers and fathers. "Aww, remember when he kept trying to climb into her crib to sleep with her? It took so long to persuade him to go back to his own bed. Stubborn as a mule, just like his father."

John raised his eyebrows in disapproval. "Like  _you_ , you mean."

She gave him a light shove where his t-shirt covered his shoulder, smiling and shivering slightly when he responded by placing a kiss in the crease of her neck. "It's sweet, really."

He huffed again, folding his arms against him. "I'd call it a lot of things. Crazy, misjudged, downright stupid.  _Sweet_ isn't one of the adjectives I'd plump for."

There was a slight tickling sensation under his chin, and he soon relented, turning his head toward her without the aid of her finger doing the job for him.

"What?"

"John Bates, you are pouting." She smirked at his attempts to prove her wrong, just for that moment, his face contorting to make it seem as though he'd just caught a whiff of an unpleasant smell. "If the wind changes direction, you'll be stuck that way."

"But you'll still love me?" he asked, sounding remarkably sincere in his pleading, which caused her to laugh.

"I won't have much choice, you silly beggar."

He smiled, knowing that he never needed to ask. In the early days he was prone to questioning why on earth she loved him as fervently as she did, but after going on nearly twelve years together he had learnt to believe every word that came from her lips – especially the ones that told him he was the most wonderful man on the earth, and that she couldn't have made a better choice for her husband and the father of her babies.

Reaching a hand beneath the covers, he began to stroke her hipbone against the fabric of her nightgown, doing so almost absent-mindedly.

"I know it makes me sound like an old fuddy-duddy, but children grow up so fast these days. You do so much as blink, and it's as if five years have passed."

He lamented at the words he had said. It did make him seem like he was living in the early part of the last century, he knew, but he couldn't help but be more than a little bit scared. Maybe it was because he was older than the average father of young children, and he readily admitted that he was too over-protective when it came to them. He wanted them to have the world, but he was terrified of the thought that the world might consume them before they were ready for it.

Sensing his growing sense of panic, Anna placed a gentle hand upon his cheek. She didn't even need to speak to make him feel at ease, the warmth of her touch was like a balm to his frayed soul.

"It makes me worry too," she said, soothingly. In an instant he was able to see all of her motherly fears emerge from where she kept them usually hidden behind her eyes and he would do everything within his power to banish them for good, if that did mean that he had to be less anxious himself. "But we'll do more harm if we let it take over our lives. It can be infectious, and I don't want them to catch on to our feelings."

John nodded his head in agreement, seeking her other hand out underneath the sheets.

"William's happy and settled," she continued, with a reassuring smile covering her lips. "I'm sure that whatever has been mentioned to him he's not making a big deal of."

"You say that," John countered, "but he is also  _my son_."

Anna conceded his point, and gave a short, warm laugh. "And look how long it took for you to ask me out. I don't think we have anything to worry about with him giving a card to a friend in his class. Maybe by the time he's eighteen he might think of asking her on a date."

"Hey," he defended himself, "I thought you wanted the whole solid friendship-before-romance thing."

"And I did," she said, leaning forward to kiss him softly on the lips.

"Don't try and distract me from the subject at hand," he chuckled.

"I can't help but be bowled over by your sense of honour, Mr Bates, even now." She gave him another quick peck and then moved back to look at him properly again. "We just have to take our feet off the pedals a bit, I think. I'd rather he learn about it now than when he's thirteen or fourteen, all those hormones flying about."

Jesus, he didn't even want to  _think_  about that, not for a very long time. He supposed she was right. Well, there was little question – he knew his darling wife always was.

Anna flopped back against the pillows, resting her head against his shoulder while she wrapped an arm around his middle.

"Part of me wishes they could stay little forever," she admitted, her cheek pressed against him. "Do you think we should look into a way of freezing Claire in time? She might not mind being two and a half for all eternity."

"God, don't even get me started on what it's going to be like for her," he sighed, holding Anna closer and pressing a kiss into her hair.

She snuggled into him, her breath falling against his neck as she closed her eyes. "And you wanted a girl first."

"I know," he uttered, feeling very comfortable indeed. "I think fate did the right thing in intervening."

The monitor placed on the nightstand began to crackle, and both held their breath before the sound of their daughter's small whimpers could be clearly heard.

"I'll go," John said, heaving himself out of the warm embrace that the bedcovers and Anna had wrapped him in.

"Thank you," she mumbled appreciatively. "Let me know if she needs anything."

He brought her forehead to his mouth with a tender hand held upon her face, and then shucked into the pyjama bottoms he had left lying just beside the bed while Anna nestled down against the pillow.

She didn't need much, and John told himself she was just being fussy because she wanted a bit of Daddy's attention before going to the land of nod for the night. He rocked her gently in his embrace, singing in a low baritone – though he didn't have to do so for very long until she was snoozing softly, her little thumb placed carefully between her lips. She was such a perfect cherub, all pink cheeks and wispy blonde curls covering her head.

"Sweet dreams, my darling," he whispered as he placed her back down into the cot that would soon be too small for her. "Do Mummy and Daddy a favour and don't grow up too fast."

When he got back to his own bed, he was happy to find that Anna was only dozing. She lifted herself as he climbed back in, positioning herself so that her head rested squarely upon his chest.

"She okay?" she murmured, placing both of her palms against him, making a burrow for herself like a little mole.

"Yeah," he rubbed his hands up and down her back, being careful not to tangle her hair in the process. "Just needed a goodnight kiss, that's all."

"Like mother, like daughter."

He snickered, rolling onto his side and taking her with him, arms circled about her in an embrace. "I don't think you've ever had any shortage of those, Mrs Bates."

"What can I say," she opened her eyes slowly, shards of sparkling blue flickering towards his vision. "I'm greedy."

"And I'm eternally grateful." He lay there for a while, not caring that he was wide awake once again, happy to stare at the beauty of his wife as she lay right by his side. Propping himself onto his elbow to get a better view of her, curiosity entered his mind. "So how old were you when you gave your first Valentine's card?"

He watched her blinking, her hand raising to sweep some of her hair out of the way of her eyes.

"Hmmm, I think I must have been about eleven or twelve."

"I wasn't the first object of your affections, then?" He placed his hand over the left side of his chest, pretending to be wounded. "But at least you were double Will's age. And that's exactly my point."

She rolled onto her back, gazing up at him from her vantage point. "Enough of your brooding, Mr Bates. Not at this time of night."

He relented, catching her fingers as they stretched up towards him, stroking the pad of his thumb against the curve of hers.

"You haven't got anything to worry about. My Valentine didn't get to see what I'd written," she said, breaking the peaceful silence that had descended. "Which is probably just as well, I cringe thinking about it now."

His interest was piqued yet further. "Go on. There's no secrets between us, are there?"

She smiled upwards, flexing her palm against his. "It was Mark Owen," she confessed, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. "He would have got sackfuls, it wouldn't have mattered if I  _had_  posted it."

For some unexplainable reason, John felt relieved, chuckling as he shifted to lie back down next to her.

"Don't laugh at me, John Bates."

"I'm not, my love," he smiled, nuzzling kisses against the crook of her shoulder and pulling her closer so that her supple body moulded against his frame. "But I don't think I'll be buying you those Take That tour tickets after all."

* * *

William was ready in his favourite Batman pyjamas and sitting on the bed, book in hand, when John entered his room.

"Mummy is giving your sister her bath, so you're stuck with me tonight, scamp," he intoned, wandering over to take his place beside his son. "I hope that's alright."

William nodded eagerly with a wide smile and immediately made space for his dad, crawling up the bed to lean back. John placed one arm around him, tucking the covers around William and propping himself against the pillows. His son's blue eyes went between him and the pages of the familiar book – one of his most favourites – at regular intervals, and William let out squeals and laughs as John put on a range of silly voices befitting the characters completely. If he ever found himself out of favour with Robert, he reckoned he could make a pretty good living doing audio-books for kids. Or perhaps it was just that he saved his best performances for his own.

"That was fun, Daddy," William smiled up at him once the story had come to a happy ending. "I like it when you read to me."

"So do I."

John's heart contracted the same way it always did when his boy threw his arms around him, reaching as best he could around the bulk of his father's frame. He bowed to place a kiss upon William's sandy hair, cherishing every night he got to do this, knowing there would come a day when he would frown instead and argue that he was too old for kisses and cuddles. That idea of holding time still wasn't such a bad one after all.

"You know, Will," John coughed, clearing his throat, "it's nothing to be sad about if you don't get a Valentine's card. It doesn't mean that you won't get one another year, when you're a bit older."  _At least ten years older, he hoped to himself._ "And it certainly doesn't mean that you don't have enough love. Because Claire loves you, and Mummy loves you."

He paused for a moment to contemplate his precious son, eyes so innocent and hopeful, his nature so trusting and loving.

"And I love you, all the way to the moon and back again." His voice had nearly started to crack with the emotion he felt, the pull of love that was stronger than any other force. "You know that, don't you?"

William nodded his head upon the pillow, his bottom lip sticking out slightly.

"Good lad," John smiled, leaning to put another kiss upon his son's forehead.

After a bit more discussion with Anna he had decided that there was nothing they could do to stop their boy handing over the card he had made. To tell him that he couldn't do so would have confused him and they only wished to encourage his kindness, knowing that it would impact well on other children. John was still fearful of the endless possibilities that might come of such an apparently simple act but, a little reluctantly, he had to accept that he couldn't shield William from every single hurt and that it might even be beneficial for him to receive such a knock while the world around him was still soft. Besides it was true; he would always be surrounded with so much love from them that it would cushion any blow for as long as he deemed it sustainable.

Still, he thought it would be helpful to remove the pressure around the holiday for the lad at his tender age, when he was quite alert and aware.

"And you don't need to have Valentine's Day to show someone that you love them. I try and do it every day for Mummy, and for you and Claire. Even when it's raining, or my leg is sore and I'm tired from all the work Uncle Robert has given me." He smiled as he could see that William was listening attentively. "I might help Mummy with the washing, or play tea-time with Claire and her teddies. Or I might read you a million stories, if that's not too many."

William giggled. "Not too many, Daddy."

"So while it's a nice day to have, it's no more important than all the others." Inwardly he sighed, hoping that he wasn't making too much of everything for the lad. "It's all the little things that you do every day that show how much you care."

He seemed to take that on board, the fact that he didn't question against it reassuring John. He lifted himself from the bed, about to tuck the sheets tighter around William when up the boy wriggled again.

"I finished my card today," he exclaimed, sounding quite excited indeed. "You wanted me to show you when it was done, and now it is."

"It's alright son, you can show me it tomorrow."

But William was already up, his duvet cover flipped over as he scrambled beneath the bed to retrieve his handiwork. He passed it to John before he jumped back into his place, knees tucked up to his chin.

"Do you like it, Daddy?"

Holding the card in both hands, John felt a lump form in his throat. The red background was covered in pink cut-out hearts, edged with silver and gold glitter, and in the centre the drawing that had been carefully crafted was unmistakable to his eyes. For a moment or two, he was utterly speechless.

"I love it," he uttered, gathering his son against his arms. His heart was flowing over with love and pride, and he grinned at William, placing the card gently down at his bedside once he had wondered at it quite enough. "And she's going to love it too."

* * *

Their kitchen was filled with the happy kind of chaos that characterised mornings, and which he so dearly loved being a part of, though being an observer was just as special. Anna was feeding Claire the last of her breakfast – today she had decided not to use her dippy egg and soldiers to paint a self-portrait on the fold-out table in front of her but had instead eaten almost all of them happily, and as she glanced up at him he could see the relief on his wife's face that their daughter had complied. She wouldn't say quite as much but he knew that she had become much more of a morning person since the kids had come along, doting on them and playing along with endless smiles as they got them both to rise not too long after sunrise each day.

This morning John thought that Anna looked especially beautiful, her hair tied back into a messy bun and wearing a plain white top with a pair of faded jeans. God knows that she could roll out of bed and he'd find her the most stunning woman that walked the earth. He smiled at her, and she returned with a ' _what are you playing at, Mr Bates'_  look which made him chuckle.

"Happy Valentine's Day, love," he murmured, producing a single pink rose from behind his back. "There's more where that came from, but they'll have to wait until this afternoon at the earliest. Old Mr Molesley promised he'd save some of the newest for me."

"Oh, John," she smiled, her sapphire eyes shining bright. "You didn't have to, but it's beautiful. And I'm sure the others will be too." She brushed the delicate petals against her nose, while Claire watched and cooed from her high-chair.

He was just about to dip down to claim a kiss when she darted away, leaving him hanging.

"There you are," she passed the envelope into his hands, only half-stuck down. "I'll warn you, it's exceptionally cheesy."

John smiled openly, catching the scent of her perfume as he prised open the other side and retrieved his own card from the back pocket of his jeans.

"You might want to not open that in front of the kids," he warned, giving her a wink.

"Cheeky," she exclaimed, her alabaster skin flushing a little. She sashayed past to clean up the minimal amount of mess that Claire had made whilst eating, and John sucked in a breath in surprise after he felt her hand give a tap to his backside, turning his head to catch sight of her flirty gaze towards him.

There was no doubt that he was married to the most perfect woman.

As she tended to their little girl, John opened the card that Anna had given him. It had become a ritual of theirs each year to pass cards to one another over breakfast, continuing as their children had joined them. Every year he told himself that he would keep his composure but his emotions and his body would always betray him, happy tears springing to his eyes while he read the words in her neat handwriting.

_Happy Valentine's, my gorgeous husband. Even if you weren't my first Valentine, you've always been the true owner of my heart._

_Thank you from the bottom of my heart for our beautiful children and our beautiful life. I love you, all the way to the moon and back again xxxxx_

"I do," she wrapped her arms around him from behind, squeezing lightly and leaving the imprint of a kiss between his shoulder blades.

He dabbed a hand to his eyes, letting his other drop down to cover over hers. "I know. I do too, my darling."

John felt her smile as he successfully placed a warm kiss against her cheek, thanking his lucky stars for every day that was more wonderful than the last and for all the moments like this one they could so easily slip into.

"Where on earth is Will?" Anna exclaimed, easing herself out of his embrace and placing her hands upon her hips. "I thought he'd be down for his breakfast by now."

"Give him five minutes or so," John replied. "It's not his fault that he takes after you of a morning."

Thankfully she smiled at him, rather than aiming a piece of expertly buttered toast towards his head.

Not a minute later William burst into the kitchen, fully dressed aside from his school tie and shoes.

"Why are you in such a rush, mister?" Anna intoned to their son's cheeky smile. "We're not going anywhere just yet. But look at you, all dressed by yourself. You won't need Mummy soon enough."

John detected the small waver in his wife's voice, and bit his own lip to stop it from trembling.

William's smile was beaming as he looked up towards his mother, his hands coming out from behind his back.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mummy," he said, presenting Anna with the card that was meant for her. "I hope you have a lovely day."

John couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene before him as his wife dropped to her knees, smiling as she absorbed the most special token that their son had prized her with. William for his part looked as proud as punch to have made his Mummy smile so big, that having been his plan all along.

"Oh, this is so beautiful! Is that you and me?" she pointed to the two figures in the centre of the biggest pink heart on the front of the card.

William nodded his head.

"Well, it's lovely," Anna enthused. "You've made Mummy look very pretty."

"You're  _always_  pretty, Mummy," he said earnestly. John couldn't argue with his son's reasoning.

Anna opened out her arms, engulfing their boy in a hug. "My little lovebug. This is the best thing I've ever got.  _Ever_."

Claire began to murmur and fuss, and John lifted her out of her high-chair, scooping her up into his arms for a cuddle of their own, admiring the perfect picture of his wife and son so filled with love, wrapped in such a serene moment.

Time could stop itself perfectly, after all.

Soon after the chaos resumed, with Anna realising that they were running close to being late for school if they had breakfast for any longer. She fixed on William's tie and got him into his coat, and they both stopped to snatch kisses from Daddy and Claire before they were on their way, hand-in-hand.

Watching them from the door, William waving happily and beaming a grin before he went out of sight for a few more hours, John smiled as Claire bounced and wriggled in his arms. Smoothing an errant curl from the side of her head, he smiled at his baby girl.

"Only a few more years until you can call me your Valentine, pudding," he murmured, laughing once she had stolen a kiss from his lips.

* * *

John snuck into the front room while Anna was arranging the bouquet of roses in the vase by the window. The tip of her tongue was poking out of her mouth as she concentrated, a mannerism he found absolutely adorable.

He was happy to find her easing into his touch as he placed his hands upon her waist, his chin propping onto her shoulder.

"Is it alright if you have two Valentines?" he asked her, playfully kissing just behind her ear.

"Oh, I should think so."

She greeted him with a smile and a quick peck to the lips, turning in his arms to face him.

"It took me until about five o'clock to stop bursting into tears," she admitted, taking her hands from where they had draped around his neck and placing them over her heart. "He's such a sweetheart."

"And there I was thinking all kinds," John bowed his head sheepishly before looking into his wife's eyes again. "We do make pretty wonderful children, Mrs Bates."

Her lips quirked at their corners. "We do. Even when they run us ragged and we're knackered by seven at night."

He chuckled at the truth of the matter. "It's worth it though. Claire went down within five minutes tonight. I think that's a new record."

"You've got the magic touch, John Bates."

"What can I say," he shrugged with a smirk, "it comes naturally."

"So it does," she smiled impishly.

It didn't take a lot for him to eye her with an appreciative gaze, but at this moment in time his look contained more than a hint of curiosity as she skipped to the coffee table, opening its small draw quickly and bringing out a small white envelope.

"You've spoilt me today," she told him, standing with one foot crossed over the other, "I think it's only fair I give you another card."

"I like spoiling you," John countered as he turned the envelope in his hands, tearing a tiny piece off successfully before using his finger to take care of the rest.

He was too busy looking at the front of the card to notice that she was teething at her bottom lip, her hands fiddling nervously in front of her.

"If I can have two Valentines, I think it's okay for you to have five."

"Five?" he echoed her, somewhat puzzled – until he opened the card. His small smile grew by the second as he edged the ultrasound picture with his fingers.

Anna gazed at him, her turn to wear a slightly shamefaced expression, although her own grin tempered it quite.

"I haven't been feeling sick or anything," she explained. "I wouldn't have noticed except that my clothes started to feel really tight over the last couple of weeks, and I know I didn't splurge that much over Christmas."

For his own part he had thought her tummy was a little rounder than usual but it wasn't something he paid too much attention to, not after she had borne him two beautiful children.

As he remained rather gobsmacked, she gave a small laugh. "Then I checked my diary and it all seemed to fall into place...I went to see Doctor Clarkson at the start of the week and got rather more than I bargained for."

John came out of his temporary stupor, his open mouth forming into a wide smile.

"Twins?" he near-whispered. "Is that what you're telling me?"

She nodded, almost unable to believe it herself, he could tell. "Well, you did say you wanted a house-full. We're almost there."

Her hands dipped down instinctively, and he found himself in a trance as he moved closer to her. Looking up at her with so much adoration in his eyes he dropped onto the floor, landing on his knees.

"John," she exclaimed with a strangled laugh, "what are you doing?"

He answered her by lifting the hem of her top with his hands gently sweeping, exposing her stomach that had the neatest of bumps already, concealing the two newest members of their family. His lips kissed her bare skin reverently, and he smiled as she sighed, cradling his head against her, her fingers weaving into his hair.

"Happy Valentine's," she said when he was on his feet once more. "I think that this is one to remember."

"You're telling me," he smiled, dipping to match her height and capturing her mouth in a sweet, slow kiss.

She giggled joyfully as he nudged his nose against hers, sipping several more kisses from his lips.

"You know what it means?" she told him. "We'll have more secret admirers to fend off in a few years time, with these two as well."

John gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, too overcome with joy to give much thought to it.

"Ah well," he said, with a smile that wouldn't be taken from his face for a few days at least. "I reckon we can manage."


End file.
